


Reeling In The Midnight Streets

by neonlemonade69



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Copic Markers, Fluff, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Pain, Trees, what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonlemonade69/pseuds/neonlemonade69
Summary: Heiko Meishu, a self-afflicted, isolated verbomaniac finds a blunt, puerile, self-proclaimed “Supreme God” at her hospital ward. Things go downhill quickly.
Kudos: 1





	1. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsolation  
> /ʌɪsəˈleɪʃ(ə)n/  
> (noun)  
> The process or fact of isolating or being isolated.

Silence rings in her ears. It’s so eerily quiet here. 

She really, really didn’t want to be here. 

In the grand scheme of things, and the infinite choices she could’ve made, this was by far the worst. 

She hides, high up, nestled in the branches of an olive tree, running her hands over the grooves on the branches, slowly tracing over the scaly marks with a pinkie as children stumble around the playground, with their faint cries and yelps, seemingly blending in with their snowy white gowns, which made them morbidly look like angels on a church chapel’s ceiling. Irony, or foreshadowing. 

She’d been hiding up here for around 10 minutes now, arms starting to ache, a burning agony inside her bones, threatening to send her tumbling down facefirst. The doctors prompted her to get out instead, or more or so told her directly “Get out. You cannot spend your ever-shortening life indoors all the time” which was, frankly, ridiculous. She fancied nothing more but to hide inside, maybe under her bed, and overhear the cars driving by outside her windows. The mere thought of spending time with any of these oblivious idiots made her sick. Quite literally. She laments not just hiding in the hospital bathroom instead of going out on a winter day, trying to involve herself in the other kid’s game of hide and seek, but still managing to drift into the background as everyone else buzzed around, the sound of shoes over dirt and the cries of children blending into one noise that reverbs around the courtyard. 

Her hands feebly grip the twigs around her, the branch below threatening to snap as she gradually shuffles towards the trunk, ready to jump down onto the snowy floor if she had to. 

She glances around before a stark blurred shape appears in her peripheral vision. A small figure appears, in front of her, seemingly popping out of nowhere. 

“Got you!”

The boy leers, his hair sticking up wildly, hands firmly wrapped around the branch under him. He shakes off the leaves on his head before extending an arm out, tapping her shoulder. He looks like he’d crawled out of a trash-can, he couldn’t be more than 5ft, really. And despite the disappointingly unthreatening child in front of her, she feels like a deer in headlights, body completely frozen to the branch.

She blinks, snapping out of her daze before flatly responding“ Why yes. You have.”

He pouts, crossing his arms, legs dangling perilously under him. The snow on the branches tumbles to the ground. “Tch, you’re seriously no fun. You never speak to anyone, all gloom n’ doom. You should speak more often!” He grins “Your voice is nice!” This asshole. has absolutely no filter, does he?

My what? My voice?

“Ah-” she turns away, averting his auburn eyes. Maybe if I just drop to the ground he’ll stop talking to me. 

“Huh? Did you not hear me the first time or something? Your voice! It’s nice!” 

Oh. “Ah, thank you” she gave a half-assed smile, as the cogs in her head gradually begin to turn, calculating how exactly to get down from this god-damned tree. And run. Into a bathroom. And hide. For maybe the next 2 weeks.

“You should smile more! It’s really pretty!”

The hell was wrong was this boy?

“Oh.” She shifts her legs, avoiding the larger branches and snags as to not scratch her legs as she clambers down. 

“Oi, don’t go yet!” The branch below him shook. “Don’t go just yet!”

She glances upwards. His palms press against the base of the branch as he frankly ignores her, attention mostly focused on not falling. She did her best to ignore his ignorant cries as she continues down, doing her best to just keep staring at the patterns that adorned the bark, watching the snow drift towards the ground. 

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in as she finally settles on solid land. She shook out the snow in her hair, huffing as the ring of a bell echoes through the park, prompting the noise from the other children to die down as they retreated to the white prison that was the hospital. 

A loud thump lands behind her. She whips around, furrowing her brow as the boy pops out of a mountain of snow, scattering it around him.

“...Graceful” she mutters, glancing away. Her boots crunch through the snow as she wraps her scarf tightly around her neck, fending away the cold which nips at her hands and sends shockwaves through her body. 

“Oh come on!” He comments disdainfully “You’re just pissed because I caught you!”

He points at her, a determined grin stretched wide across his face “I’ll find you next time, too!”

She blinks, before looking away. “I’m sure you will.” She motions towards the gate “Come on, it’s cold. Your brain will freeze over”

She pauses, snarkily adding on “Or whatever’s left of it, anyway.”

“Oi! Rude! I’ll have you know, I’m like, a literal god. I’m amazing! A supreme being! I’m like, 2 of you! In one!”

“You certainly don’t have my height.”

“That’s because you look like a giraffe with a foot in it’s ass. With hair!”

“I’m pretty sure giraffes have hair, actually.”

“Whatever” 

They walk in comfortable silence as the cry of sparrows echoes overhead, The streets were desolate, the occasional car horn would honk in the distance but she didn’t mind. She didn’t want to see anyone, and nobody wants to see her. 

Who’d want to watch a group of children wither away?

“Hey, hey!” He rushes up behind her

“What?”

“What’s your name?”

She tilts her head, a thousand questions running through her head. “Why do you need to know?”

“Nothing big,” He shrugs “just wants to know!”

She turns away, before returning a smug smile of her own “Tell me yours first”

“Oh? Playing smart, are we?” A laugh bubbles out of him, ringing in the air “Fine! If that’s how you wanna play this game”

He stuck out a hand “The name’s Kimyona”

She stares at the pastel bandaids dotting his arm, and gingerly holding out her own.

“I’m Heiko”


	2. Fleeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleeting  
> /ˈfliːtɪŋ/  
> Learn to pronounce  
> (Adjective)  
> Lasting for a very short time.

Heiko fiddles with the loose threads on her blanket, twisting and turning them into curious knots she’d definitely need some help getting out. She stares blankly at the TV, the execution and blood barely phasing her. Worst scene of the season. Unoriginal. 

Her phone buzzes to life, a notification flashing on the screen. 

New Message: Kimyona_1029  
Pay attention to me DUMBASS

From: Heiko.1572  
What.

New Message: Kimyona_1029  
WHAT WARD ARE U IN LSPLS 

From: Heiko.1572  
Why do you need to know?

New Message: Kimyona_1029  
MY FRIEND VISIT GIVE ME MARKER PLS I WANNA DRAW ON UR WHITEBOARD BC MINE WONT WORK

From: Heiko.1572  
Why does your whiteboard not work?

New Message: Kimyona_1029  
I SMASH EDIT AND IT BROKE. THE WHITEBOARDS ARE EASY TO BREAK AND THEY’RE CHEAP

From: Heiko.1572  
Wow.

From: Heiko.1572  
Ward 1571

__________

Exactly 2 minutes later, she hears the rattle of pens and the frantic knocking on her ward door ringing through the hallway like a school bell. She peers outside, quietly creaking open her door enough to get a brief glimpse of a shape dashing through the hallway.

The boy barrels in, rushing past her and tossing a clear box of markers onto her bed, before collapsing on it, his back rising and falling as he gasps for breath, panting like a dog. He looked like he was at death’s door.

Morbid. 

She approaches him, gently closing the door with a click and tiptoeing towards him, as to not step on any of the markers that rolled off the bed and fell to the marble floor with a clatter.

“Are you dead?” she questions, carefully prodding a bony shoulder with a slim finger. 

“Don’t fucking jinx it” Kimyona mumbles, lifting his head.

“Language” she reprimands, carefully trying to grab the collar of his gown to haul him off her bed. I swear to god. If this boy messes up my sheets or mattress I’ll personally kick his ass

“Hey! Hey hold on, I can get up by myself. I’m not a child” he spat, shrugging her hands off forcefully, struggling to force his upper body weight onto his shaking legs, letting out a high-pitched yelp before tumbling to the floor behind him with a thump.

A brief silence ensues, an awkward tension thickening in the air as her mind dances between the option of helping him up, and cleaning up the markers, or telling him to get the hell out of her ward.

Instead, she laughs, a genuine laugh that rings around the room. 

All the while, he simply stares, like a lost cat or a dog, blankly into space as he processes everything. 

“Hey! Hey now, don’t you laugh-“ he whines, clambering back onto her bed, hands tucked between two crossed legs. “Don’t laugh at me, stupid! I’ll kick your ass!”

She struggles to do so as she slowly tries to calm herself down. She doesn’t remember the last time she laughs this way. She doesn’t even remember the last time something had humored her and made her this happy.

Heiko looks up, and it took every bone in her body not to kneel over and laugh until her sides hurt. He looks like a wet cat you’ve dropped into a bath, face flushed with embarrassment and hair almost drooping downwards, the tufty mess at the ends messy, and the kind of expression that said “I want to dig a hole in the ground and never come out”

“Don’t-“ he stumbles for the right words “Don’t mock me!”

He pummels the sheets with tiny fists, throwing a mini tantrum “I didn’t mean to! My dumb legs were just bad at doing shit. How dare you laugh! How- how dare you, Heiko!”

“You look like you’ve been running miles. Jesus, how far away is your ward?” she chides, shuffling onto the bed. She sits, cross-legged, absentmindedly picking up the markers and throwing them back into the box.

“I wanted to get here quickly, I want to like, draw, or whatever. My whiteboard sucks total ass” he shakes his head, getting the loose strands of hair out of his eyes, to no avail. 

“Anyways. What are you watching?” He gestures towards the TV, squinting.

Oh god, she’d completely forgotten it was on. She didn’t even notice the stupid program was still running, it’s hum of sound fading into the background. 

And apparently, neither did he.

He stares at the flashing screen, then back at her. Then at the screen, and back again.

"Aw, you like this stuff? Isn't this way too scary for you?" he scoffs, gently shoving her shoulder. She shoves back, a little more forcefully.

"I'll kill you where you stand" she hisses through gritted teeth. 

"That's the disease's job, not you"

How- how am I even supposed to react?

And as if he could read her cluttered mind, he snickers before quickly adding on “It’s okay, you can laugh”

Before she presses him about the aforementioned “joke”, he flops over, arms stretched out. The bed’s almost comically large compared to his tiny figure. 

“What’s your favorite season?”

“What?” She blinks in surprise “You- you watch it too?” And to think he was the one making fun of her earlier. The nerve of this boy!

He quite literally leaps off the bed, grabbing a blue marker that looks as if it’s been through hell and back, and motions towards the whiteboard. “Come on! Tell me about it while I draw you”

Heiko tilts her head to the side, somehow caught off guard. “Are...are you sure?”

Kimyona looks back. “Awe, awe you sure?” He mocks, tugging the edge of his lower eyelid down and sticking his tongue out. “What are you, stupid? Of course I’m sure!”

He turns back to the whiteboard, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever even touched, and began sketching furiously, his hands becoming a blur of blues and pastels.

“So like, I think season 52 was excellent. The idea of the protagonist being the only survivor adds a lot to the character. Gives them a chance to develop and add to who they are as an individual, and the characters were well written.” She said garrulously, putting a knuckle to her chin, and furrowing her brow, deep in thought as she mentally deconstructs the entirety of the show. “Highly doubt it’ll stop soon, the series, I mean. That’d be a bad marketing decision, which is what the show’s all about, is it not?”

He looks back, tossing some markers aside. “You done, professor?” he stretches the last word.

“You wanted me to talk, didn’t you?” 

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the whiteboard, scribbling across the surface before flinging the marker into the corner of the room, nearly falling straight into a wire metal bin. 

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be smart or whatever, your definition of “Tell me about something” and “analyze the entirety of the season” is pretty messed up”

“Mm. Says the boy who threw himself onto my bed”

“Shut up”

“Anyways” she gets up, sweeping any loose lint off her shapeless, ghostly gown. “Are you done yet?”

As much as she wants to deny it, she was somewhat excited. She did want to see what he’d done. The last time anyone had drawn her something was so long ago it seemed more like a fever dream.

The boy steps aside, almost flustered as he awkwardly motioned towards the whiteboard. 

Upon the whiteboard, is a messy, whirlwind of scribbles, she can see frantic marks blurred across the surface and when she looks down, she notices that there're colorful marks all over his sleeves, like bruises. It looks like her, weirdly enough. And this caricature of her stares back, expression not stern, blank, or disappointed, not the expression that stares back at her when she looks at the mirror, but instead it’s her laughing, smiling even. It’s impressive how he’s turned a split second of genuine joy into an actual drawing.

“Ah- I- That’s- that’s uh...” the words dry up on the tip of her tongue “I’m- I’m not sure how to respond” 

He snorts, muffling a laugh with a palm “Cat got your tongue?”

She swats at him, barely missing his forehead “Shut up. It’s...it’s nice. Thank you”

Kimyona scoffs, puffing out his chest comically and going on about how wonderful (Spectacular, might he add) which went in one ear and out the other. 

She gives him a curt nod as he continues to praise himself, quietly settling back into a corner of her bed as she turns up the volume at the previously ignored TV, and switches through the channels.

“Here” she beckons, patting a small spot next to her pillow. “Season 53?”

He nods, throwing himself onto her bed, discarding the markers hurriedly onto her bedside table. He curls into himself “Yeah yeah, whatever, never seen it. Bet it’ll be boring as all hell” He gives an exaggerated yawn, arms stretching out “Not like I care or anything. ”

“Sure you don't,” Heiko mutters.

The chirping of the birds outside begins to die down as episode 1, season 53 starts to roll.

__________

Kimyona is the first to break the silence when the first murder of the ultimate ??? flashes up on the screen. 

“Sucks ass. Totally rooting for him to survive too”

She pauses the episode. “Saw it coming, to be honest. There’s a ton of foreshadowing”

“Are you sure you didn’t see it coming because you’ve rewatched this several times?”

“Oh shut up”

_____________

The illuminated numbers on her clock flicker, as the clock ticks to 4. She awakens from her auto-pilot state as the credits on the TV roll by. 

She blinks blearily, staring at the boy, whose head rests between the nook between the oak headboard and her shoulder. 

“Good morning” he chirps, a smug grin plasters on his face.

“Shut up” she mutters, groggily “Did you like it?”

He tucks his arms behind his head “I liked the piano girl. Shame she had to die though, she was cute. Her purple space boyfriend? Also cute”

“I used to play piano” the words simply fly out of her mouth, not crossing any barrier of “is this a good idea?” and “am I going to regret this?” “I’ll show you sometime”

“Hm? Did your parents teach you or something?” he cocks his head to the side.

She shakes her head. “Don’t have any. A nurse did, long time ago” she got off the bed, picking up the scattered markers as she continues “When I was 4, maybe 5? She favored me, I believe… she hung around in the music room on the 4th floor a lot, like, cleaning, tidying, all that stuff, and I always stayed there because the place was always full of kids, didn’t wanna interact with any of ‘em”

She gets back up, dropping the markers into their box “She taught me well, I suppose, really patient, really nice. But one day, she just...stopped showing up. Disappears. I think she moved away, or got promoted and moved up to a different ward, but I never saw her again”

A silence hangs in the air, which Kimyona breaks. “Well, play me a song tomorrow, okay?” his face is calm, almost somber as he dangles his legs off her bed, hopping off with a thump.

He leaves as quickly as he came, dashing out the door and slamming it shut, the box abandoned and left behind. 

She’s instead left by herself, to revel in one painfully honest truth.

She just made a friend.  
___


	3. Mellifluous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mellifluous  
> /mɛˈlɪflʊəs/  
> (adjective)  
> (of a sound) pleasingly smooth and musical to hear.

The next day, as she sits quietly, watching the birds flutter outside her window as she absentmindedly shoves her half-cooked rice and eggs into her mouth.

The nurses gave her a new packet today, a clear plastic bag full of small red pills. 

“Ibuprofen,” they said, simply, before shutting the door behind them. As if not to get overly attached. 

It’s quiet, too quiet, really. The silence rings in her ears. 

It’s isolating, indubitably so, but perhaps that’s alright. A little isolation keeps the human mind at rest, does it not? 

She kinda wishes he were here, to fill in the noise with his banter.

She regrets that wish when she hears thumps across the hallway and a loud, guffawing laughter as he bursts in, eyes wide. 

Oh for fucks sake.

“What the- what the hell are you doing here?” she questions, or more or so shrieks as he takes a running start and throws himself across the bed again, giving her barely a split second to snatch her breakfast tray away from his flailing hands

“Piano! You’ll play some piano, right?” he questions, almost daring her to do it as he cocks his head to the side, and resting his chin on his left palm, ignoring the fact that he’s just broken into her ward.

“Well, yes,” she glances towards her food, trying to regain composure “but I haven’t finished eating” her gaze flickers towards him “and I highly doubt you’ve eaten too”

She takes a good, long look at him. Most of his hair is droopy, making him look surprisingly small. Like a wet fluffy cat you’ve dunked into water. Maybe that’s why he has his hair all tufty like that

She gently hands him the plate of rice, careful not to spill any. “Here.” she beckons, holding it towards him “Go on, eat”

He gawks at the food, almost as if he can’t believe it. “What? Eh?” 

“It’s rice, idiot. You know what rice is, no?” she teases, stretching out her arm to grab his bandaged hand, and placing the palm under the side of the plate. 

“Well, of course I know what it is, dumbass” he huffs “I just…didn’t expect it, you know?”

“Go on then, eat. Grow taller, moron”

Without uttering a word, he complies with her “orders” and slowly begins to scoop the rice into his mouth, speeding up and scarfing it down as if he hasn’t eaten in days.

“Have you ever been to the 4th floor?” she questions, as he continues to devour the rice.

“Mmmm… not really. I used to be on the 2nd floor”

Oh, so that’s why she’s never seen him around. 

“I see. Is your ward on the first floor now?”

He nods. “Got worse, had to be moved to the 1st ward”

“What got worse?”

“Oh you know,” he waves his hand half-heartedly “Like the fuckin lew-something or other, whatever that means.”

She racks her brain, she’s seen that term somewhere, within those dusty books within the library but she just doesn’t know where.

“Oh!” she shoots up, connecting the dots. “Leukemia!”

“Tch, whatever. I’m in stage 3 treatment right now” He looks up from his rice, “The only time you’re ever enthusiastic and it’s about the thing that’s killing my blood and bones. Real classy of you” he grumbled dryly.

As she rushes out a flurry of apologies, he waves it away “Nah, it’s cool. Seeing you enthusiastic for once” he sets her, or rather his food on the bedside table “It’s like my bones suck ass” he explains, face bored, almost tired. Different from the idiot that basically flew into her room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on the 2nd floor” she shrugs halfheartedly “just never had a reason to”

Suddenly, he lights up. Nobody’s ever “lit up” because of me. Better remember this. “You what?” he seemed almost insulted. “You’ve never been there? It’s like, amazing! Like, totally awesome, even. Like, the fact that you’ve never been there? That’s super lame”

“The only super lame thing here is you and your vocabulary, short stuff” she responds flatly. Their dynamic had finally flipped back to the way it used to be. 

He makes a small tch noise, before quite literally dragging her towards the door despite her protests. “Come on. I’m getting your ass there right now”

____________

And that’s exactly how she finds herself on the 2nd floor, dazed from the constant sound and commotion of children scurrying around as Kimyona eagerly points towards the children’s drawings all pinned up on a corkboard like a big jigsaw puzzle.

“...And that was from Dusk! She was super clean. All the time. I liked that about her” he motions towards a drawing that looks like it was made from inexpensive pencils, but the quality anything but. A gorgeous seaside, waves lapping at the shore, which reminded her how much of the real world she’d actually seen, which wasn’t a lot. 

“Dusk?” she questioned, squinting to get a closer look at the drawing.

“Yep! She left a while ago, got a transplant, probably in some fuckin fancy-ass school right now. She was smart. Kinda like you!”

“Like me?” she’d become accustomed to the sudden compliments, how nonchalant and blunt he was with them. But she supposed that there were times where she was taken by unlikely surprise

“Mhm!” he nodded rapidly, before motioning towards another drawing “That’s mine! This one, right here!”

It’s a vague mess, a jumble of greens and greys, and she makes out a branch and a road, barely decipherable by their stark shape and harsh outlines, but the rest is a blur.

“Is it the view from your window?” 

He shakes his head, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look at it. “I made this a while back. I think I was what, maybe 9? I drew the view from the bigass swings while I was on it. I cut my knees in the process because I fell off, but hey” he shrugs, pursing his lips “got a sick drawing out of it”

She nods hesitantly “It looks really nice, actually. Maybe not worth the injury though”

To which he elbows her swiftly in the side. Or more or so her hip. He barely comes up to her shoulders.

“Oh fuck you. Weren’t you gonna show me your piano shit? You know, play me a song?”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, swooning mockingly “Play me a song, my beloved!”

“I’m a 14-year-old child, not a mid-century lover in some rundown castle about to be beheaded” she retorts back, turning on her heel. 

The hallways are rather lacking, a few lackluster posters dot the walls, but they’re all so yellow you can barely make out the text. The whole 2nd floor seems drained, and lifeless, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the 1st.

“You know, leaving your friend behind isn’t very polite of you” Kimyona huffs, chasing after her as they continue along the hallway. “My legs aren’t long enough to catch up”

“Shut up. I don’t even remember when I’ve last been to the music room. Must’ve been maybe- maybe 6 or 7 years? Haven’t even touched a piano since then”

The boy yawns, stretching as they enter the elevator “Lame, just play me a song! It could be mary and her little bitch for all I care”

She doesn’t respond. The elevator is grimy, worn, and probably riddled with germs, and she knows full well her inadequate immune system won’t take lightly to it but she doesn’t really care. The only thing on her mind is the oncoming questions regarding the music room. How much has it changed? Has it changed at all? What if it’s been renovated? What if someone’s already in there? What if the piano’s gone?

She’s snapped out of her thoughts as the doors open, and what greets her is a glaring pastel hallway, decorated to look like some little girl’s castle, with flags hanging outside windows, paper torrents to suit. It’s whimsical and cute in an uncanny way. 

The walk to the music room is quiet, but not exactly awkward. He’s too preoccupied with gawking at the walls, he looks like a 3-year-old going into a toy store. Eyes wide, and tugging gently on her arm sleeve like a lost kid in a store as they continue.

The target demographic has been hit. 

They come to a halt in front of the music room, whose sign hasn’t faded at all, windows shut and sealed offering no glimpse into it. The stinging smell of rubbing alcohol hits her as soon as she creaks open the door.

It’s surprisingly grand looking and stands out from the rest of the 2nd floor like a sore thumb, petite wooden marimbas are set to the side in front of the dusty blackboard, along with little xylophones that she has to gingerly step over as to not trip over them or the mallets that are scattered across the floor. It looks like one of the school music rooms she’s seen in a storybook, where the protagonist would sing nursery rhymes in front of their class or whatever. 

And in the center, sits the piano. A sophisticated thing polished to perfection, and as the door shuts behind her, she brushes over the keys with a ghostly hand, inspecting every corner of it. It’s still in top shape, the same she’d remembered it as. She settles down on the seat as Kimyona sits, cross-legged on the floor, eagerly awaiting her. He hasn’t made a sound this whole time, except for experimentally tapping at a lone xylophone on the floor, almost as if he was anticipating her “performance”

And she plays, exactly how she remembered it to be.

Her fingers seem to move on their own, subconsciously, as the first beginning notes of “Nocturne” reverb around the room. The song starts off slow and oddly familiar. Each note simply flows through her hand like a leaf in water, and the song does the same, filling up the room until she feels like she’s completely submerged. Each note drowns out everything in the world, and she craved it all, the way everything shut out when she began to play, the joy she genuinely felt, everything. She’d used to play this exact song with the nurse, her slender, calloused fingers guiding her own.

When she finishes and taps out the last note, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was even holding, and silence stands still. 

And then, there’s something she hadn’t heard in a long time. Applause

She turns around, startled, and she meets his wondered eyes as he claps, mouth slightly open in awe. He looks at her in a way that reminds her of a stunned doe.

She takes a brief, halfhearted bow, before shuffling off the piano seat, and sitting crossed-legged across him, on the floor, which is surprisingly grimy compared to the rest of the room. 

“That was beautiful” he murmurs, almost flustered as he lowers his hand “Really. That was- that was really nice” he picks at the wood planks carelessly, it’s like his personality did a 180. He almost looks smaller. An emptiness lingers in the air. 

“Don’t do that, idiot!” she swats his hand away from the floor, nearly hitting him, panicked thoughts running amidst in her mind. How many germs are hidden in this thing? God, she can’t believe she’s admitting this, but she’s genuinely concerned for the boy. It’s in her right mind to lecture him, to which he’d probably laugh it off somehow, as he does.  
But instead, she’s met with a boy whose eyes looked so terrified that it had made something dark and shameful twist up in her stomach. He mumbles out apologies frantically but she brushes it away, the same way he did for her this morning. 

“Be more responsible. You have no idea how disease-ridden these things are”

“Tch, these floors are fucking filthy. Who cleans this shit?” he mutters, getting up, and sitting down on the piano’s seat. “Either way, a little disease won’t kill me. I’m Kimyona! I’m a supreme god!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re in here in the first place, dumbass”

He rolls his eyes, but she sees the faintest outline of a smile drift back onto his face. “Stupid sickness, I’ll kick it’s ass. Just watch!”

He punches the air weakly, adding small “pew pew” sound effects 

“Highly doubt you’d be able to do that, considering you’ve seemed sluggish all-day” she shrugs “but, if you manage to do that, then hell to it all, so will I”

“It’s not MY fault my fucking mattress broke!” he smashes the piano keys down, emitting an exaggerated cry “The world is so cruel to me!” his old personality began through again “I’ll show you my ward next time. They’re fixing it right now, might take them a while, so I’ll probably sleep on the floor again”

The term “again” was troubling. 

“Anyways, the 2nd floor? Kinda weird!s” he points towards the door, eyes wide and shining “But! It’s super pretty! I mean, super, super pretty! Like, a weird kinda pretty. It was nice!”

“It’s garish. Gaudy, even” she comments, as she gets up, picking off any scrap wood off her knees and ankles. “I’m surprised this place is in such good condition. We’ll get back to my room, and finish episodes 3 and 4, yeah?”

He nods enthusiastically, clambering up and following her out of the hallway. “You know, this season isn’t that bad. The characters are neat!”   
She hums in response as they continue down the hallway, dodging squealing children swinging stuffed toys and dragging IV bags behind them, trailing behind.

When they get back to her room, it’s been cleaned up, remarkably so. Like you’ve just hit the reset button, it’s so spotless it looks fake. In a way, she likes it. She likes knowing that all traces of her will be erased. 

“Tch, I hate it when they clean our rooms. Takes away the fun of it. It’s so plain now!” he comments flatly, before flumping over her bed, arms sprawled out over her pillows. 

“Jesus, move it, idiot” she gently shoves him over to the side, as she tucks her legs under the blanket, to which he feigns horror and disgust. 

She grabs the remote and begins flicking through the screens, before selecting episode 3, whose overly dramatic thumbnail flashes on.

“Oh, also-” Kimyona interupts , expression almost sheepish as he adverts her eyes “I can’t really...stay in my room? So is it alright if I just sleep on your armchair?” he motions towards the dusty beige thing in the corner, the lamp next to it illuminating it’s fake gold trim. 

...what? 

I bet he’ll scratch the thing like a cat. Several worst-case scenarios flash through her brain. What if one of them suddenly died? What if the nurses came in and found her, sleeping on her bed and him, lounged over a pillow? What if one of them caught a cold? 

Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he frantically waves it away “No! I pinkie promise I won’t make a mess, okay? I’ll stay quiet, promise!” He blurts out, sticking a pinkie out. 

She gawks at it, processing everything before tentatively holding out her own, hooking his finger onto hers. 

“You’ll sleep on the armchair, and I’ll stay here. Look, I don’t mind, as long as you don’t break anything” she asserts, watching the episode flicker to life. She points a thumb at the Tv screen. “Anyways, season 53?”

He laughs, grabbing the pillow behind him, and squeezing it close to his chest. “Oh hell yeah”

________  
“I will not DIE!” Screeched the maid, silver hair billowing behind her as she ran, unable to escape her inevitable death.

“You know,” he interrupted, pausing the remote “I sorta feel bad for the kid she drowned”

When she questions why, he shrugs, “He didn’t have a reason to keep going” he admits, glancing downward

“He doesn’t have a motive, a reason to keep going. The motive kills and keeps them alive. I don’t have a goal or a motive” Heiko sighed, looking at the boy curled up next to her. “You?”

He puts a palm on his chin, eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought before jolting back up “I want to join the killing game!” He seemingly announces. “I’ll be awesome! I’ll be like, fuckin’ anti-hero or whatever!”

“Hm. I might do the same. I’ll tell them I’ll be the best character they’ll ever have, that I’m in it to win it or whatever”

He leans over, grasping the remote and flicking it towards the TV, before turning back and holding out an outstretched hand.

“I look forward to joining the game with you, Heiko”

__________

The curtains billow gently in the wind as she blinks with unfocused eyes, adjusting to the abrupt brightness of her room as she comes to her senses. The TV rolls the series’s jazzy opening theme as episode 5 begins, which she disrupts as she turns the screen off. 

How long had she been unconscious? No more than 2 hours, right? The clock says it’s 1, which indicates lunch will be here soon. She looks downward, anticipating some snarky remark from Kimyona only to be greeted with a petite sleeping figure, head laying limply on her shoulder

He looks surprisingly at peace, it’s odd seeing the supposed bundle of laughter so tranquil and still, and she contemplates waking him up for a moment before ruling against it, instead very gingerly shifting him off her onto a spare pillow, bringing the blanket up to his cheeks and tucking him in silently as she eases off the bed, stumbling towards the door and glancing down the stark hallway.

A nurse dressed entirely in snowy white abruptly appears out of nowhere, almost spawning in with a tray of lunch, noodles swimming in broth, a meager, golden roll, and a plastic cup of water. 

The nurse rearranges the hat nestled upon an impeccable hairdo and hands the tray over, saying something about nutrients that’s simply going in one ear and out the other.

“Ah; pardon,” Heiko quietly interrupts “may I have an extra tray? I have uh,” she motions towards the sleeping figure sleeping soundly behind her “a patient over” the nurse's face goes from blank, to confused, astounded before snapping out of it, assuring her that she’d be back “in a jiffy” whatever that meant.

She settles the tray upon her bedside table, moving the bags of medicine away into a corner as she brings out the bed tray, tucked tidily beside the foot of the bed.

As she rearranges the meal, the boy shifts around, murmuring something under his breath before slowly opening his eyes, blinking a couple of times before he focuses on her.

“Oh fuck!” He cries, voice hoarse with sleep “I didn’t mean to knock out like that, I, I’m sorry! Sorry!”

She hurriedly tries to console him, but he continues blabbering, apologizing repeatedly until she leans forward, reaches behind him, and nips the back of his neck, and he goes almost silent immediately, eyes wide and unblinking, like a cat. She picked it up from a book, where apparently, cats go limp when you grab their scruff. She doesn’t quite know how it works in this scenario, but she honestly doesn’t want to know.

“Look” she takes a sip of the stale water, swirling it around in the glass-like she’s some fancy maiden at a ball with a glass of fine wine. “I dozed out on you, you obviously get to do the same to me, got it?” He opens his mouth for a retort but shuts it as a knock on the door

The sudden knock of the door interrupts whatever he was about to say, as she leaps off the bed to open it, to which the same nurse, with the same, unnerving smile, as doll-like and porcelain as ever, thrusts another tray of lunch into her hands, before disappearing down the hallway. 

But when she turns back around, she sees him quite literally digging into her plate, food smeared around his lips.

“ ‘m sorry” he mumbled through a mouthful of noodles “it ‘looked good”

She lets out a half-hearted sigh, shaking her head and she places “his” tray onto the bed 

“Look, it’s fine. As long as you eat”

He doesn’t say anything, merely grins before scarfing down the food again, eating like a wild dog as she silently takes small bites of her own roll, feeling weirdly small.

She takes a sip of water before he suddenly interrupts her

“Want a nickname?”

She nearly chokes.

She places the half-empty cup of water back down. “A nickname?” She can count the number of times someone’s called her by her full name on one hand.

He nods enthusiastically, pointing to himself “that’s right! I, the great supreme god, am giving you a nickname!”

He puts his head to the side, thinking for a moment before snapping back up, and leaning in towards her “How about giraffe?”

“Lame”

“Picky asshole. That’s a suggestion, and an observation”

The back and forth continues. She doesn’t think they can get any worse until he tosses out “Skyscraper” and she can’t help but laugh. 

“Not that”

“Meiji?

She mindlessly takes another sip out of the glass “Hm…” she considers it for a heartbeat “sounds nice”

“So be it” he announces, clapping excitedly “Meiji!!”

He leaps off the bed, abandoning his meal half hazardously onto the side table.

“I’ll be back with a surprise for break! I’ll show you later” he cries, before dashing out the door and slamming it shut, the room shaking as he does. 

And suddenly, she’s alone again. 

She stares at the paper plate, then back at the half-full cup of water, and how the light shimmers on its surface

Meiji huh?

“Meiji” she whispers out loud, rolling the word on her tongue.

Not bad.


End file.
